


remember when we couldn't wait?

by taeynalicia



Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Monty is himself (a Mess)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 12:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14520909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeynalicia/pseuds/taeynalicia
Summary: It's the summer after senior year and Monty can't deal with it, at all.





	remember when we couldn't wait?

**Author's Note:**

> title borrowed from "Don't Cry (2020)" by COIN

There was a special kind of cruelty in calling a student down to the office on the last day.

One that was, in Monty’s opinion, multiplied by the fact that, when he reached the office, he was told instead that he was to report to Guidance and increased exponentially (or whatever was more than multiplied) when you consider that it was the last day of senior year. He was considering just not going, because, well, what could they possibly do to punish him, when the secretary added, “Oh, Mr. Scipio should be waiting for you in the last office on the left,” and Monty had to hold back his groan.

It wasn’t that he disliked Scipio — quite the opposite, in fact. Scipio was most definitely the only staff member whose presence Monty enjoyed. It was only that throughout the course of four years Scipio had taken on more and more of a fatherly role towards him, which meant that he tended to take more of a personal take on the “Guidance” thing than was probably strictly professional. This also was not to say that Monty didn’t appreciate (and need) that help from time to time (or constantly) it was just — it was the last day of senior year. There were already enough emotions swirling around in Monty’s chest without the effects of one of Scipio’s Guidance meetings slash therapy sessions slash heart-to-heart chats.

But there was no avoiding it, at this point. The secretary would definitely pass on the news if he ran away, and then Monty would inevitably be sent back down for another heart-to-heart chat which would inevitably involve a great deal more heart.

Reaching the door, Monty knocked quietly and was immediately greeted by Scipio’s “Come in” from inside. He pushed it open and stepped inside, smiling slightly at Scipio who’d looked up to greet him, then carefully shut it behind him.

“Please sit,” Scipio said, pushing the papers he’d been flipping through off to the side and folding his hands on the desk. “Now, Monty, I’m guessing you’re not overly happy I called you down here.”

This was another reason Monty appreciated Scipio — he was the only teacher that consistently called him by Monty instead of his first name. Most of the others simply forgot and a few refused to use anything that wasn’t written on their attendance sheets. The only ones who didn’t were that one history teacher who insisted on calling everyone by their last name and Scipio, who had switched to Monty the second he’d asked and never looked back, not even questioning the reasoning for the nickname as most teachers felt obliged to.

Monty snorted. “Not particularly, to be honest. It’s the last day of —”

“Of your senior year, yes, I know,” Scipio laughed. “See, that’s why I called you down.”

“But I’ll see you at graduation,” Monty replied, furrowing his eyebrows. “You don’t have to —”

“I didn’t call you down to say goodbye, I’m not quite that presumptuous. I wanted to talk to you about —” Scipio paused, unfolding his hands and leaning back in his chair. “About next year.”

Monty’s eyes dropped immediately to his hands in his lap. This had been near constant discussion since college application season started, one that had never entirely been resolved, at least, not in Scipio’s mind.

“I know you’ve accepted NYU already,” Scipio continued. “And it’s a great school, it really is. But are you sure it’s what you want?

“Well, I accepted their offer, didn’t I?”

“Monty, look,” Scipio said firmly. “You’ve done well in your business courses, obviously, but not remarkably.” At Monty’s protest, he lifted his hand and leaned forward again. “I’m not saying this to insult you. I’m saying this because you have done remarkably well in other courses: literature, journalism, creative writing. All those teachers left comments about your talent. So tell me: why are you going to business school?”

“Is it so hard to believe that it’s what I want to do?” Monty asked. “There’s no rule saying I have to study the subjects I get the highest marks in.”

“There’s not, and I would never advise anyone to choose that way,” Scipio replied. “I always tell students to follow what they’re passionate about. I’m just not sure that’s what you’re doing.”

Monty shrugged. “Maybe I’m not passionate about anything.” Scipio fixed him with a doubtful stare, and Monty felt annoyance rising in him again. “Okay, I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t get why we’re still talking about this. I’ve accepted NYU; I’m going. I’m not going to change my mind.” He forced a laugh, but it came out more like a sharp, humourless exhale. “Not that I could at this point, anyway.”

Scipio sighed. “Very well, at least I can say I tried.” He took out a blank piece of paper from his drawer and wrote out a quick note. Signing it, he slid it over to Monty. “I’ve written that the meeting ended at 3:20, so just don’t get caught and you can miss most of the rest of class. Just don’t go vaping in the washroom or anything.”

Monty grinned, even as he felt the bitter-sweetness of it all hit him in the chest. “Sure thing, Skippy.”

Scipio frowned to hide a laugh. “It’s not fair to call me that when I can’t give you a detention for it.” Monty laughed and walked towards the door. He was stopped just before leaving by Scipio calling his name. “It’s never too late to change your mind. I hope you’ll think about it,” he said. Monty smiled slightly and saluted before closing the door behind him.

* * *

 Monty did, in fact, end up spending his free half hour in the bathroom, not vaping, but just scrolling mindlessly on his phone. He sent a few bragging snapchats to Percy who was still trapped in AP Psych, a class whose teacher guarded the door like a prison warden, despite the fact that the AP exams had passed nearly a month ago. Mostly, though, he just switched between the same three applications and debated returning to Scipio’s office to change the meeting’s end time so he could just go back to class. The tight feeling in his chest that had been growing all week was worsening and it was growing impossible to ignore how weird everything was, how quickly everything was changing, how much it felt like an ending.

At 3:20 exactly he got up and, for the first time in his life, rushed back to class. The teacher looked surprised to see him, probably having assumed he’d have just gone home by now. He took his seat and spent the last ten minutes of his high school career making awkward conversation with the girl next to him about their plans for next year. Plans which, for his part, he didn’t much feel like talking about anymore.

The bell rang, and everyone packed up, and Monty walked back through the hallways in a kind of daze. He reached his locker, opened it, and stared at the empty shelves so intently he didn’t even notice Percy leaning on the door next of him until his hand came up to rest on his shoulder.

“Christ, Perce,” he exclaimed, startling embarrassingly. “How long have you been there?”

Percy squeezed his shoulder and smiled, and Monty’s heart skipped a little, which, to be honest, didn’t really help that tight feeling one bit. It was unfair, really, that smile: dimpled and toothy and so damn gorgeous it hurt. He could have gotten lost in that smile and been happy to think of nothing else, but Percy was speaking and he had to focus if he didn’t want to look like the lovestruck fool he was. “Just long enough to notice you weren’t listening to a single thing I was saying. You okay?” he added, growing a bit more serious.

“‘Course,” Monty replied, slamming the locker shut and smiling widely. “Why wouldn’t I be? We’re finally free of this horrid place, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Percy agreed, as they started to head for the doors. “But it feels a bit weird, doesn’t it? End of an era, and all that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling. There’s only good feelings on my end. In my head, I’m skipping down this hallway.”

Percy laughed. “Sure, alright, of course. Not even gonna miss it a bit then?”

“Not at all.”

Percy rolled his eyes and hummed in that way of his that somehow mixed judgement with affection in equal measure. “What did Scipio want?” he asked, turning thoughtful. “I heard you get called down.”

“He wanted to talk about next year. Again,” Monty groaned. “Honestly, I wish he’d not be quite so keen on guiding me all the time.”

"That’s literally his job description.”

“I know, but — but— well, I’ve already made my decision so really it’s none of his business whether he approves of it or not. As long as I like it, it doesn’t matter what he thinks.”

“And do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Like what you’ve chosen?”

“Not you too,” Monty sighed, lifting his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as they stepped outside. “Yes, Percy, I’m happy. I’m excited for next year. How could I not be, at NYU when you’re at Columbia and I can come bother you at any hour of the day?”

“But the program? Are you sure about —“

“Let’s not talk about this right now,” Monty cut in, and, seeing the frustration clear on Percy’s face, pressed on immediately. “Instead let’s focus on the fact that this is the last time we have to walk past the toxic waste zone that is that dumpster to get to your car.” It was a weak attempt at changing the subject, but the pleading tone in his voice must have got to Percy, because he just chuckled and played along.

“And the last time we have to dodge clouds of cotton candy scented smoke in the hallway.”

Monty laughed, then looked around to make sure their surroundings were clear, then leaned closer to Percy, and tossed his arm over his shoulder in what he hoped was an effortless movement — no easy feat, considering both the surges of electricity that tended to course through him whenever they touched and Percy’s much superior height. He spoke lowly, right into Percy’s ear: “And the last time we have to share space with Dick Peele.”

Percy giggled (actually giggled, like the most adorable thing in the world. Which he was, Monty’s heart reminded him), then bit his lip and fixed Monty with a mischievous smirk. He drew in a deep breath, and Monty knew what he was going to do before he did it, but still couldn’t contain his surprised laugh when —

“WE HATE RICHARD PEELE!” Percy shouted, and the two of them dissolved into a laughing fit that rendered them useless. Luckily they had reached Percy’s car by this point so that they could lean on it as they tried to catch their breath.

“God, do you two have any dignity left? Even a shred?” Felicity’s annoyed voice interrupted.

Monty turned and smiled at his sister, who was regarding them with narrowed eyes and her hands on her hips. “Come on, lighten up a little. It’s the last day of school.”

Felicity sniffed, and brushed past them to wait by the back door of the car. “Unlike you two, I actually have to be able to show my face here next year, so I can’t make a complete spectacle of myself,” she said. “Though how you, Monty, are supposedly considered responsible enough to graduate is beyond me.”

Monty made a face at her, and Percy laughed, unlocking the car so that Felicity would stop tapping her foot impatiently. Once they had all climbed in, it was silent as Percy put the car in reverse, Felicity dug out a book and Monty scrolled through his phone to choose a song. It was their last drive like this, altogether, and maybe it was silly, but he wanted to choose the perfect one, even though Felicity was going to mock him for his music taste no matter what he chose. That tight feeling was back, and he felt a little bit like crying for how normal everything felt: Felicity’s grumpiness, Percy’s smile and his fingers tapping on the gearshift as he waited for the way to be clear. He wanted so badly to freeze time, to hold on to every last second he had left with — well, maybe not with Felicity, though she had her moments, but with his best friend at his side, in his car, the sun glinting in his brown eyes.

“Ready?” Percy asked, jarring Monty from his thoughts, and he could see the concern had returned to Percy’s expression.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied, and started the music.

“Will you tell me what you’re thinking about now?”

“Huh?” Monty replied. It was hours later now, and they sat on the hood of Percy’s car, parked at the edge of town as the sun set. It was a habit of theirs, one that had started the very day Percy had gotten his full license and the keys to his aunt’s old car. Monty wondered if it struck Percy, fully, how romantic it all was: the soft light and the isolated locale, then shoved that thought away.

“You’ve not been this quiet since you learnt how to speak.”

“How do you know?” Monty replied. “I only met you in kindergarten. That’s, like, four years apart where I could’ve been a mute and you’d never know.”

Percy shoved him with his shoulder. “Shut up,” he laughed.

He hadn’t moved away an inch, and Monty was finding it hard to focus on anything other than the new presence of Percy’s shoulder pressing against his own. “I thought you wanted me to talk.”

“You know what I mean,” he replied, serious again, meaning Monty’s tactic of joking the topic away had failed.

“I’m not thinking about anything,” Monty attempted. “Just summer plans.”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “What plans?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, voice growing in volume and levity. “Parties to attend, wild oats to sow.”

“Wild — God, that would be the phrase you remember from Lit class.”

“Yes, well, seems I can’t deny the continuing relevance of Victorian literature in our current era.”

“Monty, honestly, stop quoting Ms. Brighton before she sues you for copyright.”

“As if she’d ever get published.” They laughed a little at that, but soon it grew quiet again and Monty thought that maybe if he spoke the knot in his chest would loosen a little. “I guess I’m just — it’s weird that everything’s, well, over.”

“I thought you couldn’t wait for high school to be over.”

“I couldn’t. But I don’t want everything to change.”

“Everything will change though. That’s life.”

“But things like — like us. I couldn’t stand it if we changed.”

Percy was quiet after that, and when he spoke it was careful. “So you don’t want us to ever change? Not at all?”

“Never. I want us to be just like this, forever.” Percy looked away, but not before Monty saw a glint of sadness in his eyes that he couldn’t explain. “Isn’t that what you want, too?”

Percy nodded then, but his smile had faded like the sun disappearing behind the hills. “Yeah, absolutely. Of course.” He shook his head and looked out to the horizon. “And we won’t, if we don’t let it happen.”

“Right,” Monty said, but it felt wrong. It felt so wrong, and he didn’t know why.

* * *

 

He was still thinking about it, later, as he crept through the silent halls of his father’s house.

The fact was this: Monty wasn’t sure about anything, anymore. This whole year he’d felt it growing, this sense that he was stuck in one place while somehow, simultaneously, hurtling uncontrollably fast towards a future that was growing more vague and unwelcome and terrifying by the second. He’d started to feel it when they were applying in the fall, while Percy raved about Columbia’s music school and stressed about the admission rate (and proceeded to ace the audition and get in with a scholarship) and Helena from Calculus spent entire classes researching liberal arts colleges and Felicity who was in eleventh fucking grade was already asking her teachers about the best pre-med programs and which universities had the best research opportunities and — Christ. There was Monty, with good enough grades but no real love of anything, the only drive to send off applications being his father’s threats of disownment if he didn’t go to college and stop “being a dead weight and disappointment to this family, Henry”.

That was another thing — and a big thing, at that. His dad, who’d been essentially absent most of his life and only floated in occasionally to remind him that there were expectations of him and a legacy to uphold and that if he didn’t stop being a fuck up he’d have no chance of a place at his father’s business (which he didn’t even want, anyway) or a hope of financial support in the future. The first time this conversation had come to pass Monty was thirteen and had been suspended for three days for pranking his teacher and had suddenly realized that acting out to get attention from his father was nothing but proof of his lack of a self preservation instinct. His father hadn’t laid a hand on him — there was too much of an image to uphold to risk that — but he’d spat words so cruel in Monty’s face that he’d been reduced to sobbing like a child in a matter of minutes and unable to look into his mother’s face for a week without remembering the way she’d cried quietly in the corner of the room for the whole experience and not said a single word.

And despite how all this sounded his father wasn’t the reason Monty chose business school. There was no misguided wish to impress the man who made him flinch at the sound of his own first name, he was sure of that. But he needed out, and what else was he supposed to do? College was the easiest way — the only way, that Monty’s father would actually let him do but what was he good at? What did he even like about school? Parties and any class he got to sit with Percy and sometimes occasionally the odd creative writing project that wasn’t completely stupid — but none of these offered anything in the way of a college degree or a career that would keep him out of his father’s grasp for the rest of his life.

So he was going to business school. Because why the fuck not?

Well, he thought, as he collapsed down onto his bed still dressed and pulled the covers over his head, his face crushed into the pillow. Because you can’t think about going without feeling like you’re going to throw up? Because you’re dreading it so much that you actually want to stay in high school? Because you hate your future so much you can’t even listen to Percy talk about his anymore?

In some ways, that was the cruellest part. If Monty wanted one thing, just one thing, it was Percy, but he couldn’t even enjoy their time together these days, because he kept thinking about some possible (probable) future where Percy realized how much of a failure Monty was and left him behind.

He rolled over onto his back and pressed his hands into his eyes and pretended he didn’t feel the wetness there.

* * *

 The breakfast table was quiet the next day. The Goblin, or Monty’s baby brother, had kept their mother up half the night so she went to nap upstairs after making breakfast. Without her nervous, earnest attempts at conversations that she never gave up on no matter how many years past, the silence had been nearly unbroken since they’d all sat down. The last words spoken were twenty minutes previous, when their father told Felicity to put her book — some physics thing or other — away at the table. So when it was broken again by Henri Montague’s voice Monty startled so forcefully his knee shook the plates on the table.

“Sorry, what?” Monty got out through a mouthful of the eggs he’d been jamming in his mouth in the hopes that he’d be able to leave sooner.

“I said,” his father said, voice dripping with annoyance. “When will you be moving to New York?”

“Oh. Um, end of August.”

“You don’t know the exact date?”

“I forgot.”

He sniffed. “You’d better figure it out. We can’t have you ruining the one good decision you’ve made in your life before you even get there.” He pushed away from the table and left the room after that, with nothing more than a short “excuse me”, and left Monty glaring at the table, utensils shaking in his hands.

“Monty —” Felicity started.

“Don’t,” he cut her off sharply, then took a deep breath. “It’s fine. It’s not like I don’t expect it at this point.”

“At least you’re escaping in a few months,” Felicity commented, in that deadpan way of hers that made it impossible for Monty to tell if she was sympathetic or bitter.

Despite his better nature, a surge of anger flared up in him, but he swallowed it down and hummed mildly in agreement. While Felicity turned back to her book, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and noticed a text from Percy. Clicking it open, he smiled at the invitation to join him and his aunt at the farmer’s market, a tradition the two of them had that Monty liked to join in on whenever he could. Out loud he said it was for the free food but secretly he delighted in the domesticity of picking out food with Percy, even if his aunt’s occasional suggestive comments made the air turn awkward and tense sometimes.

He shot back a “YES. ABSOLUTELY”, and cleared his plate impatiently and rushed outside to wait, yelling back a quick explanation to an indifferent Felicity. Fifteen minutes later, Monty saw Percy’s aunt’s old van pull into the driveway and he felt his heart do that familiar jump-step.

And Percy was climbing out of the car to meet him, and his curls were pulled back into a fucking stupid hipster bun and his t-shirt sleeves were rolled to reveal his biceps and — fuck.

Fuck what he’d felt like last night and fuck whatever happened in the fall. He’d swallow it down and make this a normal summer if it killed him.

* * *

 July slipped by almost without him noticing. And, for the most part, it was good. He made it through graduation without crying until the end of the night when Scipio told Monty to contact him if he ever needed help but really, if anyone knew his father they’d hardly spite him for a little bit of angst over leaving behind a father figure.

Monty’s father, for his part, left on business the literal day after and informed them he wouldn’t be back for several weeks, so Monty felt one weight, at the very least, lift off his shoulders.

There was something a little strange about seeing his school friends after grad, every conversation coloured slightly by the knowledge that there wouldn’t be holding anything them together in a few months, and it twinged a little painfully at that knot in his chest. So he kept his distance, slightly, going to parties and the odd movie or whatever, but otherwise keeping his distance. He thought they might find it odd and call him out on it, but then, he’d always been closest with Percy, anyway, so he guessed it wasn’t that huge a change.

He saw Percy constantly. With Monty’s father out of town there was no one forcing him to come home for dinner, or enforcing any sort of curfew, what with his mother busy with the baby all the time, so half the time he crashed at Percy’s after being invited for dinner or a late show at the theatre.

One night in the second week of summer found them camped out on their lookout point, blanket spread in front of the car, irresponsible late-night iced coffees in their hands as they stared out over town. When he’d finished his coffee he tossed it to the side and lay back in the grass. Percy glanced back at him with a smile so bright Monty had to close his eyes for fear of being blinded or, well, doing something stupid like kissing him. He heard the rattle of ice in Percy’s drink and a moment later felt the warmth of his body settle next to him. They lay like that for a moment, shoulders just touching and eyes closed, Monty fighting to keep his breathing even, then Monty heard Percy sigh and felt his curls brush his chin as his head came to rest on Monty’s shoulder and — okay. Half of him was screaming at him to fucking kiss the boy this second and he was so close to listening to it, but he couldn’t help but think that this was just how they’d always been. That they called each other darling and wrapped arms around shoulders sometimes but that Percy didn’t want anything more. How could he?

After seconds or minutes or hours Monty mustered the courage to speak again. “Percy?” he whispered.

Percy hummed in reply, and Monty started to turn to face him, painfully aware of how close their faces would be.

“I —” He cut himself off when he realized that Percy had fallen asleep and choked back a groan. Sighing, he pressed a kiss to Percy’s forehead, because he could, now, when Percy wouldn’t feel it, and let his head fall back onto the blanket behind him.

There kept being moments like this, maybe there always had been, but those first few weeks of summer seemed to torture him with the almost-ness of him and Percy. It was the way that Percy blushed that time he’d dropped ice cream on his chin and Monty had winked as he wiped it off, or that time Monty called his talent with the violin hot. Or how he’d asked him to dance that one time when he was listening to some song he wanted to learn and they’d swayed around the living room, half awkward and half perfect, until the two of them burst out laughing and hadn’t been able to stop.

But then — there was the way that Percy denied they were a couple to anyone who asked, and his blush in those cases made Monty’s heart crack, a little bit. Or the way he’d jump out of bed and turn away if they happened to fall asleep and wake up together.

And still, there were days when Percy was working and Felicity had already kicked him out of her room for bothering her while she studied (for what, nobody knew, but anyway) and Monty didn’t feel close enough to anyone else anymore to text them out of the blue and he lay for hours and hours on the floor in his room and wondered if everything had always felt this heavy, if the sun through his window had always been that unbearably bright. If his father would notice if he took whiskey from the cellar.

No, July slid by relatively unremarkably. But then came August.

* * *

 By a strange series events that included Monty’s father extending his business trip to include a detour to Russia of all places and his mother’s growing concern about the Goblin’s sleeping habits (meaning, he didn’t) that sent her to a specialist somewhere Monty forgot the name of a few hours away from where she just couldn’t make the trip back in the evening, Monty had the house to himself on his eighteenth birthday.

The second they hung up the phone on their mother, Felicity turned to him and said, “If you wreck this house tonight, I will not help you clean it or pay for the damage.”

Monty grinned. “Well, thanks, Fe.”

“Don’t call me that,” she replied, and walked back up the stairs to her room.

He had his phone out to call Percy the second she disappeared from sight.

“Monty?”

“You’ll never guess what happened.”

“No, because you’re going to tell me.”

“Hmm, bit sarcastic for talking to someone on their birthday.”

“Monty, darling, it’s nine AM, I worked a close last night, and I already called you at midnight.”

“You’re forgiven, I guess.” Monty waved his hand in a dismissive gesture even though Percy couldn’t see it. He’d know; the gesture was implied. “Anyway, turns out mother and the small child will not be returning home tonight, so…”

“So… I’m guessing there’s plans being made and I’ll have to get out of bed to help you make them.”

“This is why I love you.”

Percy choked a little and chuckled nervously. “Well, steady on there, darling, or I’ll think you’re drunk already.”

Monty cursed himself a little for letting that slip, and tried to backtrack. “Nah, but I intend to be abso-bloody-lutely wasted come twelve hours from now, dear sir, so do please come over,” he replied, putting on the poshest British accent he could manage, because, well, no one ever said he was comfortable with emotions.

Percy laughed. “I’ll be there soon.” And hung up.

Monty was still smiling at his phone when Felicity yelled down: “If you’re done flirting, you can get up here and help me put up caution tape around my room so no stupid drunk person pukes in it.”

Looking back, Monty wouldn’t really be able to pinpoint the point that it started to go downhill.

It had started alright — loud music and disgusting snack food and cheap alcohol, beer pong in the backyard and that same inevitable group smoking on the front lawn because they thought it was cooler and maybe one too many straight couples making out on the couches — in short, the quintessential high school house party.

Maybe it had started after his third beer when looking down at his red plastic cup he’d realized this would be his last high school party.

Or maybe it was after his fifth, when he started yelling at some poor girl who’d been in his Lit class that it was pretentious and stupid to wear university sweaters when you were still in high school. Her reply to this had of course been that she wasn’t in high school because they’d fucking graduated, to which he’d actually been unable to formulate a response because — well, shit.

He’d definitely already started slipping when he’d cursed out some guy who just asked him how it felt to be an adult.

He’d lost count of his drinks when the room started spinning. There he was — standing in the middle of the living room with the party roaring on either side and he felt so strangely out of place, like he’d been frozen in place, unable to move, but not a single other person noticed, or if they did they didn’t care.

And it was frustrating because he’d been okay. He’d been normal and this summer had been normal and him and Percy were normal and nothing was changing, not yet, not yet, please God, not ever.

It was there that Percy found him, staring blankly into space while he held his drink on an angle and it dripped all over his shoes.

“Monty?” he called, but Monty couldn’t do anything more than blink. Percy lifted his cup from his hand and placed it on the table, then grabbed his shoulder and shook it lightly. “Monty, are you okay?”

Monty shook his head to clear it but only succeeded in making himself feel dizzier. “‘Course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re drunk,” Percy stated.

“I told you I would be, ‘nd why shouldn’t I be?” he replied, sticking out one finger and poking Percy in the chest, then continued, raising his voice to a shout. “I’m eight-fucking-teen!” There were a few scattered cheers at that, and a few more laughs. One guy yelled “You tell him!”, but Percy’s face was serious, and seriously concerned. “Oh, shut up, Percy, stop worrying.” He turned away from his friend and headed for the fridge, intent on finding another drink, but Percy grabbed his arm before he could open it.

“Monty, what are you doing?”

“Getting another drink, what do you think I’m doing?”

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“You’re not my fucking dad,” Monty sassed, and then laughed a little. “Jesus Christ wouldn’t that be all kinds of fucked up?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hmm, I dunno, nothing. I’m getting another beer.” He tried to shrug Percy’s arm off, but he just held tighter and started to drag him upstairs.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Percy said. “Let’s get you upstairs, and sobered up.”

As they mounted the stairs, Monty started giggling. “I always wanted you to drag me up to bed.”

Percy sighed shakily and used his free hand to rub at his face tiredly. “God, you have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I do,” he said back, dragging out the syllable in a way that he hoped sounded flirty. “I’ve always wanted to you to drag me up here and close the door and have your —” He was cut off by Percy’s hand coming up to cover his mouth. They were in the upstairs hall by now, and Percy gave an embarrassed smile to the people gathered there, waiting for the bathroom, who were all staring at the pair of them.

“Please, please, stop talking,” Percy whispered to him, removing his hand to push him through the door to his bedroom and closing it behind them. He leaned his forehead against it for a moment, and turned around, breathing heavily, his eyes full of questions that Monty didn’t want to answer. He stepped forward, placed his hands on the door to either side of Percy’s head and leaned in slowly.

Percy swallowed. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Monty, I don’t —”

He was cut off by Monty’s lips pressing against his. Monty wasn’t gentle. Between the alcohol and the torrent of emotions floating through him, he didn’t have the strength to be soft, instead moving his lips fiercely, bringing his hands up to grip either side of Percy’s face and pushing his body forward so he pinned Percy against the door. For a moment, Percy was still, and then he started to melt into the kiss, his lips moving to keep pace with Monty’s and his hands coming up to grip his hips.

Monty, through the fog in his mind, was sure he was meant to be enjoying this. He was sure this was supposed to be magical — his first kiss with the boy he loves. But there was a burning in his chest and tears behind his eyes and a growing feeling of nausea. He ignored it, and pressed his eyes tightly closed and slipped his tongue out to touch Percy’s bottom lip and —

Percy shoved him away so hard that he stumbled. “What are you doing?” Monty asked.

Percy shook his head angrily, his eyes glassy and his lips swollen. “What am I — What are you doing, Monty?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Monty replied, his clouded brain not quite able to keep up with this turn of events.

Percy laughed, but it wasn’t in that beautiful way he usually did, it was bitter and small and it made Monty’s chest ache in the way that it hadn’t stopped doing all summer. “God, you’re so drunk. What was I thinking?” he muttered, and rubbed both of his hands over his face.

Monty’s stomach twisted and his heart started to race despite the fact that he could feel it splintering. “Well, goddamn Perce, I didn’t know I was so revolting to you. Way to let a guy down easy.”

Percy lifted his hands from his face. “Like this meant anything to you.” There was a hard edge to Percy’s voice that Monty’d never heard before and he couldn’t understand how it got there, couldn’t understand how they’d gotten here.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Well, just that— this isn’t exactly uncommon for you, is it? I mean, I’ve always known the way you are with me doesn’t actually mean anything you’re just —"

“What? A slut? Easy? Bit of a bi stereotype there, don’t you think?” Monty spat. “And wait — not exactly uncommon? How many people do you think I’ve been with? What exactly is your opinion of me?”

Percy seemed shocked, more than angry at this point, but his voice was defensive. “I just meant, you’ve always been one to date and hook up and — look, it’s your life, you can do what you want but, I can’t do that. Not with you.”

“Not with me? Oh, alright okay, no judgement there at all there then,” Monty shot back, moving to turn away from Percy, but his hand turned him around again.

“I just mean — Christ, how do you not — I just mean that I can’t have this mean nothing,” Percy stuttered out, and Monty blinked up at him in confusion. “And I know that for you it would. So I can’t— we can’t do this.”

Rage was boiling over in Monty’s veins at this point, and the alcohol had made his tongue loose and well: “Okay, so I’m not a slut but I am incapable of meaningful relationships. Oh, okay.”

“Monty —”

“No, no I get it,” he shouted over Percy’s plea. “Why the fuck would you want to be with such a fuck up, anyway, when you don’t even believe him capable of fucking loving you properly — which I do, by the way. I fucking love you, but it doesn’t matter because I’m just some burnout who gets piss drunk at his eighteenth birthday because he can’t fucking deal with the idea of change or adulthood or — or — someone who’s not good at a single thing worthwhile who will probably end up flunking out of college and end up stuck in his fucking father’s house for the rest of his miserable life or end up on the street because his own family can’t even deal with such a failure or — or —” At this point, the sobs building in his chest tore out and he found his body shaking with them, unable to speak as he wiped uselessly at the tears that poured down his face.

“Monty, god, Monty,” he heard Percy breathe, and it sounded like he was crying, too, but he couldn’t be sure. A moment later, Percy’s arms came around him, one clasping his waist the other coming up to cradle his head, guiding it to his shoulder so he could muffle his sobs there. “Shhh, I’ve got you, I understand, Monty, I’ve got you.”

Something about that switched a flip back on and he felt that rage again and this time, it was Monty pushing Percy off of him. “You understand? How the fuck do you understand? You’re talented and smart and you could do anything without even trying. It’s always been easy for you. You don’t understand.”

Percy’s lip curled and his eyes flashed and Monty knew he’d overstepped and the sick sense of pride was squashed in a moment as he started to speak. “Don’t you dare say that anything’s been easy for me. What’s easy about losing my parents, or working for years to find the right medication so I don’t — Nothing’s been given to me, Monty, I worked for it, and you were there for all of it, how could you —” He cut himself off and drew in a shaky breath. “Look, Monty, I can see how much you’re hurting and I want so bad to help you but you can’t — you can’t lash out at me like this.”

Monty couldn’t do anything but stare. Percy took a step forward and gently ran his fingers over Monty’s cheeks, capturing the tears that Monty had felt but been too stunned to wipe away. He rested his forehead gently to Monty’s and for some indeterminate amount of time they just stood there, breathing together. When Percy pulled away, Monty nearly whimpered aloud and had to stop himself from gripping tight to Percy’s hands to keep him there. He knew he didn’t have that right, not right now.

“We’ll talk about this,” Percy said. “We will. But I can’t tonight.”

Monty nodded. Percy looked at him for such a long time that he thought he might kiss him, just once, but he didn’t. He turned away and left the room and shut the door without a word. And, in a way, Monty was glad he hadn’t — it would have been a goodbye.

* * *

 “You look terrible,” Felicity said the next morning.

Monty groaned, not lifting his head from the cool granite the countertop where he was waiting for the Advil to kick in. The sound of glass clicking against the surface right next to his ear made him flinch, and he looked up to see that Felicity had placed a cup of coffee next to his head.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Monty asked, suspicious but not suspicious enough to prevent him from taking a huge swig of the coffee.

“Because you actually cleaned up last night, even though I know that’s the last thing you would’ve wanted to do after …” She trailed off and cleared her throat. “Except that you forgot the bathroom. One of your gross friend’s puke is still on the toilet.”

"Oh, no that was me at like, five-thirty this morning.”

“Ew,” she replied, screwing up her nose.

“How is my puke grosser than a strangers?”

“I don’t know. But it is.” She paused. “So you messed things up pretty good last night, did you?”

Monty looked at her skeptically. “Stop pretending you didn’t hear everything.”

“Sorry. I just wanted to ask, if you are — if you and Percy are—”

Monty rubbed at his eyes. “We’re not now, but if he’s way, way better than I deserve, we will be.” He laughed. “At least until I fuck it up again.”

Felicity hummed and looked down at her fingers tapping against the counter. “Look, you know I don’t pretend to have any idea about romance or whatever, but. I can say that I think that if anyone can make it work it’s you and Percy.” Monty smiled, and turned back to his coffee, taking another long drink. “But if I hear anything else through the walls — shouting or otherwise — I will personally kick you out of this house.”

Monty choked on his coffee. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure, and you aren’t dreading going to NYU.”

“Felicity —”

“You forget I heard everything. And, even if I hadn’t, you shut down every time it’s mentioned. It’s not a hard solve,” she said. “Do me a favour and withdraw your acceptance, Monty.”

“And do what, exactly?”

“Well I read your journal,” Felicity said, and continued talking right over Monty’s indignant squawk. “It was pretty good. Do that. Or be a bartender, you could be good at that too.”

Monty shook his head, but he was smiling which was more than he thought he’d be capable of this morning. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Felicity replied, and then pursed her lips to hide a smile of her own but it still played at the edge of her lips. “So, would this be a good time to tell you that Percy’s called the house three times already?”

* * *

 They ended up meeting at a park near Monty’s house. He’d debated asking to go up to their lookout but then balked at the idea of things going sour and ruining the place forever. Monty walked there, and Percy was already sitting on a bench when he arrived, scrolling through his phone with a look in his eye that suggested he wasn’t really looking at anything at all.

Monty paused in front of him, and waited for him to look up before saying a quiet “Hi”. Percy shuffled over to make space for him immediately, tucking away his phone and looking at him intently, but saying nothing. He might be an idiot, but even Monty could read the expectation in those movements. He knew he’d be the one talking first. “So… how likely is it that you’re never going to forgive me?”

Percy smiled gently. “I forgave you last night.” Monty deflated slightly as tension slipped out of him, and Percy continued, “But we can’t not talk about what happened.”

Monty shook his head. “No, obviously, we can’t that was —-“ He sighed and turned to look directly into Percy’s face, figuring he could return his directness in kind. “It was awful and you didn’t deserve any of it, and most of it was bullshit, anyway.”

“It’s not bullshit if it’s what you were feeling.”

“No, that’s not really want I meant to say,” Monty replied, frustrated with his own ability to say what he really thought. Or to even know what he was thinking, for that matter. “What I meant to say was that I’m sorry.”

Percy nodded. “I just wish you’d talked to me about all this if it was really that bad before you —-“

“Screamed at you in a drunken rage?”

“Yeah, that,” Percy agreed. “Well, no, I just hate to think that you were struggling all summer and I didn’t do anything —”

“It’s not your fault,” Monty rushed to interrupt him. “Really, it’s not. You’re making everything so much better, in fact.”

Percy nodded and smiled again, but didn’t say anything for so long Monty started to wonder if he’d said something wrong. Finally, he started, in that careful voice of his that told Monty he’d been thinking about the exact right way to phrase it; that it was so, so important to him. “Just promise me something.”

“Absolutely.”

“Let me help you, next time, even if you think I’ll hate you for whatever it is,” Percy said, and Monty nodded immediately. That was not a mistake he would ever make again, he’d already promised himself as much. “Oh, and promise me you’re not still going to college after this.”

Monty let out a laugh that quickly turned into a groan. “God, no, I’m not, but hell if I know what I’ll actually do.” A smirk spread over his face. “Maybe I’ll just stay with you. How d’you like the idea of me as your kept man?”

To Monty’s disappointment, that joke inspired only a thoughtful expression on Percy’s face, not the blush he’d been aiming at, and he suddenly remembered what else he’d said (and done, for fuck’s sake) last night. Percy started speaking before Monty could start desperately back-pedalling. “About that … Did you mean what you said?”

“About — um — about how I feel?” Monty stuttered out, and Percy nodded. “I — yes. I’m quite positive that I do in fact feel that way. And have for a while.” It was possibly the worst confession in the history of the world, but then, as long as Percy was still smiling at the end (which he was) it was good enough for Monty.

“That’s good, I think —” Percy started then shook his head, frustrated. “Well, I know, I feel the same way about you.”

“Yeah?” Monty breathed, a grin threatening to split his face in two.

“Yeah.” Monty made to say something in response, but Percy held up his hand. “But I also know that if we do this, we need to be sure. You need to be sure.”

“I am —” Monty started.

“Can you tell me honestly that you’re sure you’re ready for a relationship? For all that entails? And really think about it.”

Monty stayed silent while he thought it over. His feelings for Percy wouldn’t ever change, he knew that by now, but he also knew that he’d spent most of this summer letting his own wounds fester so long he almost brought Percy down with him. He knew that there was more than just his love for Percy to figure out — that he needed to find his own place, too. “I can’t,” he said finally. “At least, not yet. But I think — I think soon I will be.”

Percy smiled, and reached out to take Monty’s hand. “Then I’ll wait until you are. Alright?”

“More than alright,” he replied.

* * *

 He came home to find his father there, which wasn’t in itself a surprise but with all the events of the past few days, he guessed the date of his return had slipped his mind. He was suddenly grateful for his past self (something he didn’t get to be often) and his need to clean the entire house rather than face his bed the previous night.

But he hadn’t seen his father in over a month, which, again, wasn’t all that strange but suddenly he felt strange. He felt new and changed in some irrevocable way that was tied to the new determination that burned in his chest.

So, after only ten minutes of nervous pacing in the hallway, Monty did something he’d never done before — knocked on his father’s office door, uninvited. He waited there for a few breaths and then was told to go in.

The room had always been Monty’s least favourite in the house, but whether that was because of the ridiculously dark and expensive decor or the amount of times he’d been yelled at to the point of tears and then yelled at again for crying standing in that one specific spot on the ugly Persian carpet, Monty couldn’t be sure. He’d rather have done this on neutral ground, but there was no way he was waiting however long it took for his father to emerge when he felt like he’d been waiting to do this for eighteen years.

Henri Montague looked up at him from where he stood near his desk, shuffling through papers, lips pursed and head tilted in what should have been curiosity but instead resembled annoyed impatience. “Yes?” he prompted.

Monty took a deep breath. “I’ve withdrawn my acceptance to New York.”

“You’ve what?”

“I’m not going to NYU,” Monty clarified unnecessarily, and waited for the explosion that was sure to follow. When his father spoke again, however, it was deathly calm.

“I hope to God this is a joke, Henry,” he said. “Because I cannot fathom one single reason why you would turn down this —”

“I don’t want to go,” Henry cut in, the simple act of interrupting setting his heart racing. “I hate business, and I don’t even really want to go to college, if I’m honest.”

“How could you be so stupid? How dare —”

“No, I was stupid when I thought that I could ever be happy doing anything like what you do. You’re the least happy person I know.”

“You will apologize, Henry, and you will contact the university and explain that there’s been a mistake. I will not have my son be some drop-out.”

“I can’t be a drop-out if I never got there in the first place,” Monty shot back.

His father let a low noise in his throat that almost sounded like a growl and took one quick step forward, hand upraised, and Monty couldn’t help but flinch away, wondering if this was the moment his father finally cracked, finally stepped over that line, but a moment later he seemed to catch himself, clenching his hand into a fist and dropping it to his side. “You will do as I say, or you will leave this house and forget about coming back.”

Monty raised his chin, swallowing back the fear and uncertainty, knowing deep down that this is where he’d been headed all along. “Then I’ll pack my bags,” he responded, and turned to leave. His father’s hand came up to grip his arm, tight enough to bruise.

“You are making a mistake,” he hissed.

“Maybe I am,” Monty said. “But I’d rather starve than risk turning out like you.” With that, he pried off his father’s hand and strode out of the room. As he shut the door, he heard a loud crash from behind it, loud enough that Felicity, sat at the kitchen table, actually looked up from her book.

“What did you do?” Felicity asked, eyes narrowed.

Monty blinked himself out of the angry haze that had fallen over him. “I think I just got disowned.”

“What?”

Monty laughed, and once he’d started he found he couldn’t stop and suddenly, there he was, in hysterics in the middle of the kitchen while his sister stared up at him in disbelief. When he sobered enough to ask her to help him pack, she nodded mutely, and followed him up the stairs. It was only when he’d dug out his suitcase and started throwing things haphazardly inside that she managed to unfreeze.

“What did you say to him?”

“That I’m not going to college.”

“And he kicked you out?”

“He told me I could either change my mind or pack my bags, so…” He gestured at the bag in from of him.

“What’ll you do now?”

“Right now, I’ll go to Percy’s. After that — I don’t know.”

“But you do have a plan?”

“A rough one,” Monty sighed. “I have money saved, from working last summer, and I think they might take me back. Or I could find a job in New York if —”

“If Percy’s okay with that. Which he will be.”

Monty rolled his eyes at her, then paused and looked down at his hands gripping his journal. “And maybe Scipio was right and I have some passions of my own to pursue.”

Felicity grinned, and her hand came up to rest on his shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d ever say this but I’m proud of you, Monty.”

Monty smiled through the tears that were starting to gather in his eyes, and pulled her in for an awkward hug — awkward because they’d not actually hugged each other in — well, ever. It lasted maybe five seconds before Felicity shoved him back and started zipping up his bag for him. “You’ll be okay, here, won’t you?” he blurted, worry suddenly and unexpectedly filling him.

She snorted derisively at him, but her eyes were full of gratitude. “I’m not the problem child, remember? And it’s only one more year.” Monty nodded, and let out a breath of relief. “Now just go already, would you? This is already far too much sentiment for my tastes.”

Monty smirked. “You’re losing your edge.” And then he couldn’t help it, and added, “I’ll miss you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Now go.” So he did, and he didn’t even look back.

* * *

 “You did what?” Percy yelled back at him over the phone.

“You sound like Felicity, now. I thought you wanted me not to go.”

“I want you to do whatever makes you happy. But I only mean, you didn’t waste any time.”

“Seems that once I start to change the mess that was my life I can’t really stop,” Monty said as he came to a halt. He’d called Percy intending to ask if he could come over but, finding himself to impatient to sit and wait while he explained, he’d simply walked over while he retold everything and now, he was staring at Percy’s front door. “So I was wondering, could I stay at yours for a little bit, there’s not really any other place —“

“Yes of course.” Percy’s voice was accompanied by the sounds of rustling. “I’ll come pick you up now.”

“You don’t need to.”

“What?” Percy replied, and he must have moved to the front door already, because Monty could hear him in front of him as well as through the phone.

“I’m outside,” he said, and barely a beat passed before the door swung open to reveal Percy standing there. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Percy stared at him in something that looked like wonder and made Monty’s breathing hitch. “Of course I don’t,” he said, turning off his phone and tucking it back into his pocket. He stepped back to let Monty in, and was silent as he pulled his suitcase in through the door, then closed the door behind him. That done, they stared at each other for a couple moments, anticipation starting to drive Monty mad.

“Then I hope you won’t mind this either,” he said finally, and stepped forward to kiss him.

This time Percy didn’t hesitate a moment; his arms came up to wrap around Monty’s waist and yank him in closer. Monty’s hands tangled immediately into Percy’s hair, whose curls were left loose and gloriously untamed and this was how it was always meant to feel: joyful and tender and fucking perfect, and it was only the words burning on his tongue that made him pull away.

“I’m sure,” he whispered, his fingers running down Percy’s cheekbone, brushing over freckles and tracing the happy creases next to his eye. “I’m not sure about next fall or next year or, hell, my entire life after that, but I’m sure about you.” His fingers came down to touch Percy’s lips. “That is, if you still want me?”

Percy pursed his lips to press a kiss to Monty’s fingers and tucked his head to rest in Monty’s neck so his breath raised goosebumps even before he spoke and set his entire being on fire. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Monty shoved both hands back into Percy’s hair and pulled his face back up to his own, perhaps a little desperately, and joined their lips together (definitely desperately). Percy groaned and deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between Monty’s lips and letting his hands grip low on his hips and Monty would have literally preferred to do anything other than pulling away from him again but the tiny part of his brain still capable of rational thought was raising alarm bells that cut through his desire just enough to make him break the kiss.

“Steady on, darling,” he said, trying for humour but managing only a hoarse whisper. “Your aunt and uncle —”

“Both at work and will be for hours,” Percy replied with not a small amount of desperation.

“Well then,” he breathed, and leaned in again. “Carry on.” And he was sure neither of them had a rational thought for a good long while after that.

* * *

 “What are you thinking about now?”

They were lying in Percy’s bed, Monty’s head resting Percy’s chest while Percy ran his fingers through his hair and light filtered through the open window. Something sweet and soft was playing from Percy’s record player in the corner and Percy’s voice was rough with sleepiness.

Monty shifted onto his stomach and placed his head on his hand that rested on Percy’s chest. He looked up at his face: sleepy smile and droopy eyelids that he kept blinking in an attempt to focus. His face and heart warmed at his curls made unruly by Monty’s hands, the feel of the skin of his chest pressed against his own and the sheets tangled between them. They hadn’t gone all the way, hadn’t made that final leap, but it was a close thing and Monty figured it wouldn’t be long before they did. But despite all those years of longing and feeling half mad with desire, he didn’t feel impatient. He had him now— he’d simply sleep in his arms for the rest of his life if that’s what Percy wanted.

Judging by the force that Percy had put behind his kisses, it wouldn’t come to that.

Monty pushed himself slightly higher on the bed and pressed his lips gently to Percy’s, because he could now and so couldn’t bother trying to help himself. He kept it soft and just rested there until he felt Percy’s lips spread into a smile under his. He moved back and couldn’t even attempt to control the besotted smile that formed — but it was okay, more than okay, because it matched the one on Percy’s face.

“Don’t distract me,” Percy scolded, completely undercut by the gentle laugh that followed.

“You’re the one distracting me, darling,” Monty said. “I really was going to respond to you, but I lost my train of thought when I saw your pretty face.”

Percy blushed and pulled his hand out of Monty’s hair for a second to cover his face. “Shut up,” he groaned.

Monty pulled Percy’s hand away and brushed a kiss over it, settling his face back into Percy’s neck to hide his grin at Percy’s little choking gasp. He waited for Percy’s fingers to resume running through his hair and then spoke. “I’m thinking about how we have three weeks left of summer, before you go.”

Percy froze, then gently pulled Monty’s head up until their eyes met again. “Hey,” he started, voice breathy and suddenly serious. “That’s still loads of time, and then we’ll still — We won’t —”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Monty cut him off. “I meant, we still have three weeks left of summer. And nothing to keep us here, really.” He brought his hand up to smooth over Percy’s forehead, which had started to crease in concern and then confusion. “And I still have some money saved that I was going to use for tuition, and if I’m going to be trying to write, or whatever, I might want to, like, see something of the world…” He let his voice trail off.

Percy’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “What are you suggesting, Monty?”

Monty grinned. “D’you think your aunt would miss that old car?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> two things -
> 
> 1\. I know they're British but I wanted to follow the long standing tradition of North American High School AU so im sorry that its not in England
> 
> 2\. I'm Canadian, and this is set in (ambiguously) America so if i've made mistakes thats on me and the lack of research i did
> 
> and another thing - thank you for reading, i love you !! and if you'd like im over [here](https://felicitymontague.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


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